


Gagging Order

by Linara



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Depressing, Gagging Order, Gen, Radiohead, Sensitive Material, Torture, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linara/pseuds/Linara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of two depressing things I've worked on in the last few weeks. The title comes from Radiohead's 'Gagging Order', and the lyrics come from there as well. Seriously, it's not a happy fic at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gagging Order

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Teaspoon and Fanfiction.net

_I know what you're thinking_

 _But I'm not your property_

 

Jack watched through tired eyes as the Master moved in on him, holding today's instrument of torture: a knife. It was the third time in a week, and Jack was beginning to suspect that the Master had a thing for knives. 

 

This particular one had a jagged edge that Jack knew from painful experience hurt like a mother, especially when used on the sensitive skin of his neck...face...stomach...hell, anywhere.

 

 _No matter what you say_

 _No matter what you say_

 

"You're my toy, Jack," the Master hisses viciously as Jack bleeds out against the concrete, darkening the stain already on the floor. "Mine."

 

"Just a thing to use, Freak. Just something to hurt."

 

You hear something like that enough times, you start to believe it.

 

 _Move along_

 _There's nothing left to see_

 _Just a body_

 _Nothing left to see_

 

Tish had to clean up after every one of the Master's 'visits', and what she found was usually the same: Jack, dead, covered in blood and other associated bits of gore, and the floor needing a good scrub that she really didn't want to do. 

 

But it's not like she had a choice. She could, however, clean Jack up as best she could, and after the first few...sessions, Tish knew to hold Jack tight as he came back to life, to whisper what words of comfort she could summon for the immortal. 

 

She waved off his gratitude every time. The look in his eyes was thanks enough.

 

 _A couple more for breakfast_

 _A little more for tea_

 _Just to take the edge off_

 _Just to take the edge off_

 

Jack always knew Saturdays by the meal: the Master insisted on having most of his captives - the ones that the Doctor knew, anyway - at breakfast, which was a painfully grand affair.

 

"We'll need entertainment, of course," the Master had said at the second breakfast, and he'd watched, and eaten,  gleefully as a young girl was tortured to death in front of them. Nobody else ate.

 

 _Move along_

 _There's nothing left to see_

 _Just a body_

 _Pouring down a street_

 

"I've heard," the Master said one day, well into the third month although Jack didn't know that,"that there are a few things worse than death."

 

Jack watched him warily, not sure what to expect from this latest mood: thoughtful, but with a suppressed undertone of excitement. Last time something like this had happened, he'd been given poison along with his swede.

 

"One of those things," the Master continued, circling Jack's chained body with the grace of a cat and the air of a very dangerous predator, "is watching somebody you love being hurt."

 

There were few people Jack loved, and since the Master didn't look like he was about to have the Doctor wheeled in, that meant - _please no, please no, please..._

 

 _"_ I believe you're acquainted with this particular medic?" the Master asked, grinning as his guards brought in _Owen - I'm so sorry, so so sorry._

 

"I wonder if he bleeds like you?" the Master queried out loud. "Guess there's only one way to find out."

 

It took two days for Owen to die.

 

 _Move along_

 _There's nothing left to see_

 _Just a body_

 _Nothing left to see_

 

 _"_ I've heard," the Master said sometime into the fifth month, although Jack was past caring, "that there are some things worse than watching somebody you love being hurt."

 

 _And killed, too, you bastard. Tosh, Owen, Gwen, their blood is still staining this floor, mixed with mine..._

 

"And one of those things is watching the person you're sleeping with get hurt. You know," and now the Master has his head cocked to the side, looking genuinely puzzled, "I'm rather surprised you were only shagging one of your employees. You don't seem like the type to be satisfied with just one. And such a thin boy too, your little Welsh catamite."

 

The heart that Jack had thought was shredded beyond use is still capable of hurting him. He learns this over the next four days, every wave of agony punctuated by one of Ianto's screams. 

 

And his reassurances. 

 

"I'm alright cariad, I'm f-fine..."

 

 _Move along_

 

 "Stop feeding him," the Master instructs Tish an week after Ianto's damaged nearly beyond recognition body is tossed off of the Valiant. "Handsome Jack isn't much fun now. He's gone all boring and _catatonic..._ "

 

 _Move along_

 

 _Finis._


End file.
